Archive for the ‘Punk’ Category

The Wheeling Year

02 Mar

Plunging into the proud once bold steel spokes of Wheeling
on a boast, leaving self-identified low-brow intellectuals
thick on their heels, disciples of mediaplex back home
to guzzle odd beers, to call forth warm meals,
shutter fashion clues and scatter candle wicks,
cascading ambitions, creeping years and shell-soaked
beltway snobberies if not outright fears
only the duty-stoked people of paper bountiful
& class swearing beautiful can celebrate or poke
without laughing out loud
(Must calibrate gross weight or reluctantly take a dive...),
to increase their distance from the nothingness crowd
lost to brutal calories and raw educations
that rarely matter. Sometimes freedom
of choice is just a cigar.

The boy scout giving good turn a bad name
squats two seats away from the shadow's flame. To this end
I am greeted by
icy gray broken asphalt gristle patched with frosted gray cloud cover,
stuff of gray twigged mountain peaks and frisky billboards, soaking up
mere strands the soot life left to the rights of man in sixty year exodus,
sealed in a book mapping tough cookie Norwegian painter Edvard Munch,
(recently purchased in Washington and also found in local library, with lime)
to his destiny of soul-watching inched in regional nee personal strife,
the contact spy, the imperfected feeling magus,
the mystic's eye bent to March Madness
and the gnat gusts of George Mason's run
smack past the heavily brokered UCONN largess
predicted here on this page at patriotic halftime
with the same breath as "Pop Mike, Pop Mike" fun
veers the seer from Connecticut Avenue to Main Street
invoking play by play off the curve, via broadband, the long hike,
the voice of God dead or alive voting one sorry syllable at a time
with these heavy feet, with these heavy heavy feet
chanting "Long live the Mountaineers!"

Early thoughts among leafless trees recall jobs lost on a dime,
mantles of black gold from ancient burial grounds that fed
the former veracity, stolen with a few strokes of ink and power
of law but that's sparing a crime, spoiling the climb (social)
more shame in responding to a coal miner's lament
however sublime. Ignorance is egregiously polled,
and tallied like a certain hour where uncertainty takes hold
but will never sop these wet K Street cement trucks
with an exchange value that will surpass the damage of
wasted years looking for evidence of American life elsewhere
among the stark solar systems and pigeonholes of our enemies.

This rambunctious exile with single wave of arms deal
might have dropped anchor in Cumberland, M-D
some many miles franker (with escalating gas prices) still to the east,
instead, in exit from the nation's capital in the land of Nod,
brave hardly but where art thou hididen in tattered cards,
revealing seven maybe eight convalescing spirits,
as thy wholesome West Virginia Left Bank energies
emerge among fading old mills and abandoned
century old cigar warehouses,
nail factories and one fairly new hockey arena
skimming along the once mighty Ohio River
banks and bards, shanks and shards
like some Indian giver (that old tale)
ignorant of industrial bed safeguards
perfectly, perfectly American...

and I too, have come to recapture Victorian Wheeling metaphor,
ripped from ancient headlines in the days of Zane and Fort Patrick Henry
speaking the spectacular language of oldest and largest...
magnificient suspension bridge still in use, American Legion Post #1
recalling the 1940s, the unvarnished glories of the Capitol Music Hall,
where thy current president "Bush II" delivered another Iraqi hoot
hosted by the Wheeling Chamber of Commerce such as it is,
(commerce by all indications is not the city's strong suit)
before whizzing past in the familiar ironclad motorcade
black to the gills, in tight with street throngs of mere dozens
confused but supportive of Orwellian nation-building doubletalk
(a mere handful of detractors showed up with predictable signs)
hurrying to greet proven Pittsburgh past any sad assassins
hiding in the vacant ruins of the stunted and the shade
just two short days after my own arrival,
recalling former feasts of this harsh Steeler Nation
now in fester.

Victory to explore this old house of Wheeling,
home of some thirty thousand souls nested in the airy hills
to examine the lost fortunes of free elections and free speech,
to score on the fading linebackers godwilling for minimum of one year,
axiom by axiom in a tutelege of the expatriate, I am after all, a city boy—
saith the tainted poet, painteth the awkward painter...
Drawing upon the strength of history wanting a chance,
success and sure loss of dead weight left in the District of Columbia
where special populations prove numbers are anything but...
(absence of voting rights, questioning the dance)

But just as the petty thief draws near,
there is visionary hope in new places, new perspectives, new choices.
Infrastructure—civic, civil, and yearning awaits.

[ 2006, Wheeling, WV }

Wednesday July 2, 2003: The Wonderful Launch of RSN

02 Jul


Jack Kerouac by Dewitt


Wednesday July 2, 2003

Howdy Chazroe—here are those heraldry prints I promised you. Enjoy. Trust everything is decent with you and Pops, the dog, the job, the school, the dream. It's been a whirlwind summer since taking my sabbatical (perhaps permanent???) from the photo lab at the end of May. Am currently building an online radio station (the Radio Scenewash Network, RSN) which will be best accessed through a broadband connection (DSL), although I am formatting it at the 56kps rate which should allow those with dial-up modems to stream with decent results. Once we go live, I'll send you the details...Still busy compiling the song database, synchronizing bit rates and line levels, but should start stitching together that first playlist within a few business days. To sum up the station in a few words or a simple label would be impossible, but probably the college radio venue might come close to describing the eclectic selection of classic and local punk, hard and soft rock, country, folk, and even electronic and spoken word compositions I plan. Eventually I'll be creating my own vocal lead-ins and radio chatter with some special spots by Tim Shipman and other local voices to round out the sets. This is the most excitement I've been able to generate for myself in several years. Psyched...

That said, Sue and I are heading up to New England for a few days, leaving tomorrow, stopping first in New Rochelle, NY to see the Thomas Paine museum there, then onto Darien, CN for the first night's snore, then on up for a night on the Boston Harbor (Back Bay), before peeling off to just north of there to Lowell, the hometown of Beat writer Jack Kerouac. Then the trip veers south to Philadelphia where we should spend Saturday night, copping a visit to the Museum of Modern Art nested just a spit and a smile from our friend Steve Taylor's house. There, we'll catch the Marcel Duchamp collection of dadaist art pieces he donated them in the 1920s...

We don't get away very often, but I've been planning this trip for years. Although what's left of tropical storm Bill will make this a soggy spin, we've already postponed this trip once for similar rain invasions. What a spring & summer! After five years of extreme drought, we've had nothing but rain, rain, and more rain, not to mention all the snow we had this winter.

Anywaze, lemme hear from you sometime...

Happy trails,


Remember When Bussius Blew Us Off, Plumb Missing Our Gesture

29 Aug

Bussius Beach

Bussius Beach


Date: Thu, 29 Aug 2002 10:52:13
Point of Origin: Washington, DC

Sorry I haven't got back to you, didn't stop by because my wife decided to invite her friends and they followed in another car. Make a long story short, they were not to interested. Well I have spent a week at the beach. Only company really was my son, wife (after we already got to the beach) invited another friend of hers. Came back the next Sunday, Monday truck broke down, dropped 200 bucks to fix, tried to replace my serpentine belt, broke that cost 75 bucks, this Monday finally fixed truck completely, living with the in-laws has almost become truly unbearable. Looking, possibly for a new job (pays more) so I haven't been feeling too spunky about anything lately. It was good hearing from Yall!! Yeah Haw! Haven't been doing much of anything except the last month or so trying to get back in shape, getting up at 4:30 am go to work and go running for 4-5 miles, work, go home, lift a little weights, go to bed, repeat.

Made the History Channel, summer of 2000 going through Ranger school, they had a t.v. crew out there filming. Finally got a copy last month (2 frickin years) come to find out, all the video they took you only see me close to the very end! Sux!! Oh well. Let me get back to pretending I'm working and not playing on the Internet. Later Gator,

—Sergeant Buss

Hey Sarge, we gotta see that video, man. Came across some pics just the other day you'd sent me from Hawaii of yourself snuggled up to God & Country & sweet teat familia gob-smacked in face mud and camouflage. Spunky goo, maaan, spunky...

Speaking of changes, I just took a part-time job myself down at the neighborhood Moto Photo. Plan to join Gold's Gym which is three blocks away, soon after I get my first paycheck. I begin right after Labor Day. Should be a halfway decent job, 20-24 hours a week, cop a few skills, and spot check the pushy Chevy Chase photo-processing public before the whole stinking industry goes flat out digital. And this weight problem I've been hiding under an enormous appetite for has GOT TO VANISH INTO THIN AIR.

Meanwhile, I dolly around the house working up my websites long in ill-repair after three highly decorated years of preparing to move, moving, and reorganizing into the new place, a MUCH smaller place. But I can't complain, despite a mess of health issues. I've just got to straighten myself out, Sarge, one day at a time (he laughs with a big-assed ho ho ho, as if he were some buck naked private singing in the desert rain for pennies on the dollar and a new identity from which to launch a David Foster Wallace attack on all those sinking souls he knew by the sound of their tongues crying out from the purest unalloyed Turkish copper, rich in history, freshly poured off process from the long queue of smelting pots containing only the perfected element.) Truth unalloyed.


Time: 29 Aug 2002 16:20:11

Yeah it's gonna cost your whole paycheck to go to Gold's Gym. They ain't cheap.Yeah I packed on 20-30 lbs since I've been out and now I've been running just about 4-5 times a week 3-5 miles and the only thing I noticed is I'm getting better at running again and I think my body is just adjusting to keep the fat and be able to run. What a bitch!! Have to come up with some more strategies besides just running, need to lift more weights or more exercises like push ups and pull ups, sit ups (definitely). Well, I'll keep trotting around the trail every morning until this shit falls off. What are you up to this weekend? Maybe I can wiggle myself away from the looney bin and the Master-Where's-Your-Paycheck.

Mrs. Beaversnatch

Mrs. Beaversnatch

Any Hooo let me know and I'll probably have to email or go somewhere and call since the in-laws don't have long distance calling after my sister-in-law raised the bill to over 500 bucks with her homey friends. What a wasted human she is, worthless as cancerous tits! Well I'll get back to ya.

—Roberto the Boogaloo Dance Technician

Come on down, Corona Pooch...since we cancelled our plans to go visit my mother in Chicago, we have zero inertia. Might go looking at affordable outboards this weekend just for kicks, but that might be even more fun if you were along. Paycheck? Uh, I don't START working until after Labor Day, but I don't really need the check to sign up at Gold's. Just thought it would be nice to see money coming in instead of always going out. Moving out of the ghetto put us bug-eyed in debt, again.

But let's get together for real. I'm hardly drinking anymore these days, weight and blood pressure issues. I'm a fat old man fer sure. Though I look younger than my age (47 in September), I look fatter than I feel, but then again I surely feel like the 300 pound ghostbuster I am, so who am I kidding? Saturday? Sunday? You name it. Wassup dude?

Anyway speaking of automobile troubles, I've got to get outa here and head out to Wheaton on the Metro to pick up our car that's currently in the body shop. While visiting down in Charlotte, NC earlier this month, Sue's childhood friend's husband backed into the rear door panel with his SUV. $1200 worth of crush and paint. The body shop has had it since Monday. No problem though. Sue takes Metro to work, and I don't leave the house, so the car rarely goes anywhere these days except on weekends occasionally.



Blue Light Special

26 Oct


Philadelphia Fitness


Friday, October 26, 2001 4:44 AM

Hey Steve—up for a visit? If so, do you know a route from DC to Philly which bypasses the toll road? I need a breather from this terror on TV, death in DC, and my own killer daily bread. With a nod to all those former glories we shared, I thought of you. I'll bring the recent Dylan release.

This window of opportunity will expire soon. If I don't hear from you today, for whatever reason, real or imagined, I'll count on nothing. Could this really be the end, stuck inside of DC with the Philly blues again—as the four horsemen of an prima facie first blush apocalypse, the blue light special of tomorrow's plush sweaters, the four nineties of some square conspiring to compete with the circles we pick up in the streets and avenues, Steve, Len, Tim, and Gabriel pledging allegiance to the sounds of our own thumping hearts for which we cannot stand idly by...

Half deaf but playing it by ear,


P.S. By the way, Bracken sent me his "screenplay". Seems I have a single speech towards the end, which of course fits in my mouth, but still I hesitate involving myself in this project since I despise laziness, especially that which lurks in MYSELF, so why should I allow Mr. Radical to exploit me for those questionable aims of his, just for the vanity of some screen time? What do you think? Have you read it? Would you like to have my lines?

Hey great! C'mon up...Don't know any toll-less routes offhand...just know the standard 95 route...would require some blue-highway meandering...but don't let that stop you! We've got Koreans in town today, so I might not have much of a chance to get to a any event, could you remind me of your phone# (gotta catch a bus, an egg-and-cheese sandwich, and a coffee, in that order)? Mine at work is 215.790.xxxx (feel free to leave a message if I'm not in.) After work and the obligatory Korean dinner tonight, I have no plans for the weekend.


When In Baltimore, Bring Elephants

31 Jul


Marti Wouldn't Approve


Date: Tue, 31 Jul 2001 09:31:54

I can't thank you and Sue enough for partaking of the events that day. All the weirdness aside, it was a fabulous party. I've been getting feedback ever since, most good, some bad, but fuck the ones who are complaining. Hope the video people will forgive my leaving them behind and give me the video....they are holding out now, sulking. I am trying to explain to them that the video opp in the limo was not anything I would want to keep for posterity's sake...

I await the pics as they come, in whatever condition. I appreciate your tenacity, your wit, your
friendship and the elephants...thank you ever so much!

Til next time...

Marti Iben

SWILL: Failings Of The First International

23 Feb


The Morality of Looking


Date: 23 Feb 2001 03:07:35 +0000


Rebunk: What I was trying to do was prime those kiddies for the sworg perspective.

Am I correct in thinking that Spud eliminated the REVIEW command from nothingness' listserv? Methinks that far from being kiddies the list principally consists of insincere old gits like the aptly self-apellated "m.e.". If nothingness is ever going to make either a useful forum ever again or a useful meeting place then it will require repopulation (and therefore a massacre of incumbent diseased entities). But to that our attention some other time...

Rebunk: This does not endear me any less to the project of actually CONTINUING the situationist method as it developed before during and after the SI's existence (and not resting happily and absolutely on its conclusions) as opposed to REJECTING the SI altogether in terms of cigars and hairstyles in order to promote my shitty new record.

This too seems to raise another unresolved issue. Here's a dead un-PC point of view for you, Reebm but in my opinion (now) Malcolm Maclaren is the most (only) noteworthy situationist since the doors closed on the old SI. Without Maclaren there would have been no 1980s situationist revival, no reprint of the R.O.E.L. and so on. Punk basically was situationism—albeit stripped of its privileged intellectual kultural trappings, and no one more consciously tried to ensure that fact than the much loathed Maclaren. But Maclaren poses two clear problems—First, that he was shamelessly capitalist; Second—that he was a showman and manipulator and thereby challenges the simplistic black hats/white hats definition of spectacle and situation (as does everything which captures our imagination if you see what I mean).

These endless twistings of meaning and attitudes are not a phenomenon "tacked on" to the real world, they ARE the real world (Phenomenology)—and as such they cannot be eliminated or judged in the black and white moralistic terms which have been inherited from the SI (as from the contemporary worldview in general).
Now I suspect that my answer to these two challenges are still not wholeheartedly (or not at all) your own. Namely, that....

First we have to live in the REAL world, the world as it actually is, in which power is necessary in order to determine the nature of our present and future that power is invested in money, and therefore that enterprise and remuneration are necessary to further revolution or change in general (personal or collective). Yes, money might even lead to capital—and yes, capital might even lead to advantageous circumstances given appropriate responses to opportunity. In other words BAMN as we used to say By Any Means Necessary. This is more than a cheap opportunism—it is an ethical principle because as I have so often tried to argue, all moralities are necessarily SPECTACULAR and the aspiration for some inverted kind of revolutionary morality is FATAL to real integrity. We cannot even reluctantly reconcile ourselves to the world as it is even this is a SICKNESS : we should not be in the business of judging the world except in terms of appropriate activity to desirable possible consequences. Or in yet more words—it is time we treated history as a TECHNOLOGICAL not a theological problem, and if that is to be the case these taboos must be banished along with our fetishes.

Second—l;as I have also argued perhaps fruitlessly, the distinction between SPECTACLE and SITUATION as originally intended by the SI is clearly UNTENABLE. From a philosophic point of view I guess this is the most obvious reason why its fairly absurd to talk about being "situationist", (but then absurd is okay : I can live with absurd—just a technical observation). Likewise, and for the same essential reason, the distinction between recuperation and detournement is equally in error. The manipulation of images and ideas, far from being a mere manifestation of a certain phase of capitalism, is in fact FUNDAMENTALLY HUMAN—it has always being going on, it will continue to go on indefinitely. It can only be judged, (which is to restate the point made above) in terms of whether the said manipulation (charm, hex, hypnotic spell, suggestion, spin) furthers or does not further a better ensuing situation/scenario. These endless twistings of meaning and attitudes are not a phenomenon "tacked on" to the real world, they ARE the real world (Phenomenology)—and as such they cannot be eliminated or judged in the black and white moralistic terms which have been inherited from the SI (as from the contemporary worldview in general).

This idea requires an entirely different mode of consciousness—we must teach ourselves to OBSERVE the actual transmission of this karma, of the way a certain phenomenon or event or quality turns a persons mind to left or to right (or often in many directions at once). So far as I'm concerned that is what this project IS ALL ABOUT and it is not possible to proceed so long as we are to be subjected to a historically transmitted ethos about immutable GOOD and EVIL...
Naturally I am not refuting materialism here —because they are extrusions of material necessities, but of material necessities which will continue to exist with or without a revolution. GamePlay, and not an abstract political philosophy, will determine right from wrong in these matters.

It follows from this (or at least, it may certainly follow in principle, and whether it follows or not depends solely upon tactical considerations in any particular context) that it may indeed be for the BEST if Debordianism gets free advertising as a result of someone seeking to recycle Debord to advertise their shitty new record. In most cases (though this cannot by any means be an absolute statement) all publicity is good publicity and this virginal desire to avoid being sullied with the sins of the world show a positively CHRISTIAN mind-structure where instead there should be a dextrous determination to ride the perpetual flux of KARMA—of good and bad consequences of phenomenae which are ALWAYS a mix of good and evil. This idea requires an entirely different mode of consciousness—we must teach ourselves to OBSERVE the actual transmission of this karma, of the way a certain phenomenon or event or quality turns a persons mind to left or to right (or often in many directions at once). So far as I'm concerned that is what this project IS ALL ABOUT and it is not possible to proceed so long as we are to be subjected to a historically transmitted ethos about immutable GOOD and EVIL...


Rosemary Put Us Into IMF Flick After Watching Me Pump Gas

03 Oct

Stage Door Company

Stage Door Company


Date: Tue Oct 3, 2000 2:20:45 PM

Administrative Contact:
Rosemary Rizzetto
Lusby, MD 20657

Hi Rose—apologies for taking so long to get back to you. My kitchen construction woes continue to defy any hint of honesty & integrity on the part of Joel Truitt Builders, Inc. After even more promises from him yesterday, things still sit where they were a week ago, no show after no show.

But let's talk about your online presence. Above are three agencies (plus the one you mentioned) I found which resemble what I believe you are seeking. The IAM site by far is the most comprehensive and expensive design.

Go to my commercial site and click on the WEB DESIGN & HOSTING link. From there you will find my pricing schedule. Your site should be simple enough to construct, but with seventy models, that presumes a lot of coding, even if most of the original graphics work for the banner logo and navigational links were replicated sitewide. And any fancy programming code such as search capabilities and shopping cart features must adhere to the OS of the server itself. I work solely from a Macintosh prospective. I did check out your domain name registration: everything seems kosher there. There is nothing at your site, but of course you knew that already. Since I am unfamiliar with the add-on protocols at your current host, there would be a slight learning curve. But frankly, I prefer to design and host sites from my own Macintosh servers, and can offer certain add-ons not available in the short list of your present host company features.

But with all this kitchen construction malfeasance in my life right now, I am focused in trying to hurdle bureaucratic red tape so that I can fire the contractor and thus reorganize. So it is perhaps not even a good idea that I take on your job at this point. Meanwhile...

At minimum, I cannot build you a fully functional site for less than $1000 (while I usually quote between $2K-4K or $100 per page for a better looking basic site; time and skills), even if I were to throw in a year of free hosting, which I would. However, if you just want something simple to get you started so that you actually have something people can see right now, a preliminary homepage with company logo and contact info, I can do that for you for a lot less once I have access to a server.

Hopefully, you have already retrieved your webspace USER ID and PASSWORD info from the young girl you originally slated for the job. Also: if you do decide to move to my servers, you or she would need to transfer the domain name over from Internet Planners to Graphic Solutions Ink Systems via Network Solutions (the domain name registration company). I would provide my own domain name server addresses to you for that transfer. It's actually a rather complicated & convoluted dance designed to keep fraud and theft of domain names down to a minimum, but I've done it several times for troubled clients just like yourself.

If you are still interested, please feel free to contact me so that we can further discuss any particulars about the site or the film. Thanks for discovering me at the gas pump. Can't get any more cinematically authentic than that....

Best regards,

Gabriel Thy

Rock N Roll Nigger

15 Apr


Patti Smith


Timothy, I presume you have asked your darling punkette out to the Patti Smith gig, and that you will be handling your own ticket purchases. When I mentioned to Sue my logistics dilemma in coordinating all this, she said, and I quote, "Let Tim buy his own tickets. He needs to take responsibility. He's got credit card and computer access. Why does he need us?"

Well, she had a point, so I'm buying mine probably Thursday afternoon after I drop Sue off at Dulles for her flight to Atlanta. Just tried to call it in, but grew weary of listening to muzak and ads. The web form tacked on eleven fifty in charges for a two week mail delivery window where any number of things could go wrong. Waiting until Thursday hopefully won't blindside me with a sellout.

Hey baby, put your dress on, we're going to the rock show. Any comments, news?


Telephone Lines, Black Girls, And William Blake Foolishness

02 Jul


The Telephone Pole


Date: 17 Jun 99 09:48:57 -0400
From: Sue Hedrick

Hey Baby! Yolonda sent me this note (along with everyone else) saying she was leaving the office at three for an appointment but would be back, and then buzzed me to say "We are still on for tonite, right?"—so everything looks like a go.

Here's how I see it. The two of you drive here, park, come inside, get me, take a quick tour of the site for the first shoot, then we all get in your car, go to Las Placitas or somewhere more likely to allow a private setting, and then shake the tree, and see what falls out. I hope to have the entire archival set ready by then, if not I'll deal with that dilemma at the time, but it's a plan.

I also have the portfolio ready. I just don't know whether I should bring it or not. What do you think? I have no idea in what direction she wants to move on this because I don't know her except that she's a tall, beautifully postured, voluptuous, well-appointed, respectable woman destined for success. But that could mean anything in terms of how she wants to be seen. Details are the blood and guts of this pursuit, just like in writing about heroes, lobbyists, clergy and congressmen—the skin game's no different. It's all in the details. Keep in touch!

Love my baby,


Date: Wed, 16 Jun 1999 16:35:54 -0700
From: Sue Hedrick

Hey Baby, I called Bell—they checked the line and said there were problems on it, but could not tell if it was outside the house or inside. She said there is a diagram and instructions in the front of the white pages of how to check if it is outside. Something about taking a phone out to the box on the side of the house and pluging a cord into the jack there—if you get a dial tone, then the problem is inside the house. Anyway they have scheduled a repair session tomorrow between 8:30 am and 5 pm tomorrow. If the trouble is outside, we don’t have to be there, but do if it is inside.

Is Peter’s old line dead also?


Cute as a kitten with a voice to match. Bell techie called me from our pole in the alley. "Fixed!" she exclaimed, as if she'd handed me a fresh batch of burgers and fries, and I'm still online writing this—after telling her the story of the dupe who unbundled our two sets of twisted pairs that equipped the ISDN. Unbundled to give to one twisted pair to the neighbor who had placed an order for a plain old telephone service POTS line. Funny now, but this was probably a case of telephone company shadiness since I'd read where the telephone companies were resisting the law that forced them to allow usage of their lines by the Internet competition. Or this could have been a simple case of a clueless dupe who knew nothing about ISDN, and thought he was "fixing" somebody else's error which in turn went from bad to worse by taking nine days to isolate the pole connection as the problem and straighten out. She laughed, was super sweet, forcing my blood to simmer down again, and I guess we're back in the voice over wire business again, eh baby. She also confirmed that the pole was indeed crowded. Imagine that, in telephone overkill in the ghetto. As Mick Jagger, back in the day when he still rocked the turf at a football stadium might have observed—some black girls are just too colorful for words.

Love sweetie,


Date: 6/17/99 8:27 AM
From: Yolonda Payne

I apologize for yesterday but I forgot about my appointment due to the Father’s Day festivities. I hope I didn’t inconvenience you guys too much. It was around 10:00pm by the time I retrieved your message and I thought it may have been a little late to call.

That leads me to another related topic. I have been thinking about it and I appreciate the opportunity to work with you and Gabrielle but I am just not feeling it. I thought it would be best to let you know know because I really don’t want to waste anymore of your time. :o)


Date: Sun Jun 27, 1999 9:36:25 AM America/New_York

Hey sweetie. Here are three girls I find remotely interesting that flew into the coop today. The Dylan flick is a snapper as well. None of the videos really make my uberlist since we already stock a couple and I've traditionally not cared for Brazil or Vertigo despite Kim Novak in her sweater best. American boyhood phase, but of course they are both keepers for better or worse. Brazil is a Blumstein pick. But it's a sell I don't need right now, preferring to write about it here instead because it's just about spending money and time renewing old vows and making new ones in sprints I'd rather enjoy elsewhere right now. I'll pay the whatever bucks later when I'm truly and whimsically too whipped to reject the rental of other people's stuff. Besides, I'm aching to stuff a few stockings myself, drawing lines in the sand, knowing the difference between a mark and true wealth when it walks in like a métier, a calling rather than a racket. Finally taking a stand when I've already put my life on the stake, feeling in the marrow of my bones that it's already getting late. The word is I just need to launch this business now, juice the circuitry on this one, and keep working toward the next level of refoliation. I'll really just be happy to be trying to pull something together. I'm grasping at straws, but that's okay because I'm the one who came up with the line that "ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw," while adding, "souls grow on bones but die beneath bankers' hours." Frankly, I don't know how much more I have to do to launch a venture that is successful and sustaining. Are not my time and skills worth anything? I need to make a living, too. Happy that we have agreed to fight the good fight with William Blake and, uh I think Beatrice, if I recall correctly, and I'm not at all sure I am right on her name, wait, I'll have to check. Here's the Blake anthology, lemme look.

Well, have to do that later when I can see straight. Been up nearly 42 hours straight with a three hour nap tossed in. Blurry-faced.


Editor's Wiki: Blake married Catherine—who was five years his junior—on 18 August 1782 in St. Mary's Church, Battersea. Illiterate, Catherine signed her wedding contract with an 'X'. They remained together until his death in 1827. Blake taught her to read and write, and also to use his printing-press. Throughout her husband's uneven career, Catherine not only took an active role in the production of William's engravings and illuminated books; she also ran the household finances and offered strong practical support.

The couple had no children, and it has been suggested that Blake wanted to bring a concubine into the relationship to act as a surrogate mother, which was consistent with the theories of Swedenborgianism by which Blake was influenced.[4] Blake's earliest biographer Alexander Gilchrist does not mention this, but speaks of unspecified troubles in the early years of the relationship. However, Algernon Charles Swinburne later explicitly asserted that this was the case, but that Blake dropped the idea when he saw that it upset Catherine.

Date: Tue Jun 29, 1999 11:05:12 AM America/New_York
From: Sue Hedrick

Hey baby,

I just talked to Skip about the annual cruise—he said sometime in August—I said we would be gone around the 14th for a week—he said that we (you and I) have to be on the cruise—I said I would send him the dates we would be gone…

Can you send me the exact dates?

Love sweetie,

Sue Hedrick

Date: Fri Jul 2, 1999 7:32:06 PM America/New_York

Hey baby—August 7-14 is the Fripp rental that we failed to get because there weren't any vacancies, but that's when Karen & Gary will be there. So we will probably miss them because the 21st or 28th would be best for us. I'll meet you at your office this evening for dinner and a ritz cracker, so just lock in when you think you can pull away from the pile of work on your desk...

. . . and she is not the bouncy young girl on the voice machine nor the other Latin—may who I say is calling—woman who baffled me yesterday. Cida is middle-aged I think, a rather thick and slow tongue but bright enough I think to manage the cleaning without all the philosophizing of Maria. We have Cida's number and will call again after we get back in town. She lives in Silver Spring, and seemed to have no issue with driving to Capitol Hill. Monday every two weeks again fine with her. She wanted to see the house, and I suggested we all three meet for introductions. If she and business projections work out then perhaps we can give her more duties, once every week, but this is a start.

She had trouble with my name. Gilbert, she tried to call me. Geez, Gay or the latinized Gah bree EL, is a more familiar name than Gilbert, although Gilberto is not unheard of among the Spaniards, so who knows the meaning of these things. We both laughed in sorting it out.

Still stewing over that most recent Bracken insult. BUt he did buy me lunch at that Greek spoon we like in the Pan-Am Shopping Center in Vienna, and he paid for postage on Blum's package. Ten, eleven dollars total, max. Always flirting with danger in my diet, I had a fat reuben and salty chips, iced tea, finishing off the lovely lunch with a scrumptious chunk of baklava...

Being a revolutionary and a body purity fiend, Bracken opted for something far less adventurous, as you can imagine...



26 Mar


Gabriel the Bulldozer


Date: Mon, 22 Mar 1999, PBurris wrote:

I UTTERLY neglected my social graces and took off for my friend Lena's this week without mentioning to either one of you where I was going, or even that I was going. I apologize. Tim mentioned that you had asked him if he knew where I was...This was rude and accidental, not malicious and deceitful. ps, be home later this evening after class. phb

Date: Thu Mar 25, 1999, Gabriel writes:

I don't know what exactly crashed. Windows? Netscape? The cursor hung up. First time on a PC anything could happen if I let my fingers do the walkin' and the velvet rubble the talkin'. But seriously I hit the reset button only to realize in a second or two the overkill I had probably enacted. At one point there was a password issue, but I did not wish to stumble through several layers of an environment I know nothing about on someone else's machine, at this late date.

Your penchant for avoiding us the past 18 months has me pinched. Skip Henderson has now done the same thing. On three separate occasions he boasted he had a useless NT box just sitting there, wherever, nearby doing nothing, and he would exchange it to me for services rendered. As soon as I ask for it, like a charm, the box is unavailable for whatever reasons. I will go out this afternoon or tonight and buy a frippin' PC, and stop this BS of depending on people with mouthpieces which don't seem to respond to what comes out of them.

For weeks, nah, for months, nah, for a year now I have been trying to expand our relationship to something more than a passing freighter in the night. But let's face it. You ain't interested. Your proven track record galloping about as a fleet tested phantom around us while playing up the social butterfly role everywhere but here betrays any other ambitions you spout in this area. I no longer believe your words are as important as your compulsion in saying them. You seem to have every five minutes of your 24-7 planned down to a nub. Zero percent of that time includes us, except to pass by in a rush or a dead state of tired. That's a very shallow approach to take with me Peter, and time has about run out on your excuses. Your time is certainly your own business. You OWE us nothing in that regard. And the GSI buffoonery isn't your problem. But you can stop with that tired old song and dance of friendship. I am no longer interested in hearing it.

Meanwhile, we've got some serious talking to do.

On Fri, 26 Mar 1999, Peter Burris wrote:

A very gracious missive, which resonates strongly with my own lasting goodwill towards you and Sue. This has been the best living circumstance of my adult, perhaps all, my life, and I have both of you to thank for this. Without seeming to rehash the conflicts which came to the fore last night, I suppose it’s my delight with the consideration, the efforts, and the freedom, and generosity you have extended me that I was oblivious to the strain my aloofness created. For that and the rudeness manifest in my behavior, I sincerely apologize. For the opportunity to learn, to share dreams, and discuss the music, books, and words that we have, I thank you.

I also want to thank you for your offer to ease the moving process. While I don’t know what in particular I could ask along these lines, I am heartened to know that we will not be treading tentatively in a battlezone, but cooperating in the coda to a chapter that has benefitted me greatly, even as, sadly, it has harvested you fewer delights.

Peter, I'm sorry things turned out the way they have, that my tone last night was pitched and angry, but please be assured that I will in no way lodge any lasting anger or resentment against you on any matter whatsoever. I certainly did not intend to belittle, mock, or besmudge your integrity or person. So let me repeat that I have the greatest respect for you despite what you may feel to the contrary at the moment.

While I believe I touched on most of the details of this rather simple matrix of issues presently defining me, I don't think I emphasized the most important detail.

The primary issue at stake is that I have had to look realistically at what I am chewing off in the way of conflicting ambitions. Building a bonafide business with an appropriate growth rate doesn't seem within my grasp anymore. I am much too neurotic to play the requisite guessing game, and as a result I am forced to scale back and refocus to reassert my center. I can no longer fool myself into thinking others will be there for me when I call on them. We are indeed two forces of a selfish and self-pitying generation.

I regret that we failed to accomplish many of the shared dreams we had articulated to you. But recently I have felt like I was riding a crashwave. Saying no to Bob meant saying no to you. But my anxiety in disappointing myself and the others involved amplified for your benefit last night the petty but accumulative grudges I had been building up as a result of MY OWN TAKE on matters. I do not plea objectivity or any moral high ground on the issues I brought up. You need to realize however that you are not the only one in this house who suffered through a maternal hellfire, and my psychology is as warped in general terms as your own might be. You claim to despise confrontation as do I, but we do seem to handle this fear and trepidation a bit differently.

My point here is not to rehash old news, but to emphasize that if there is anything we can do to help you resettle, we will do what we can to oblige you. If you wish to discuss anything, please feel free to approach.

Well, here you are, so I will close this.

Gabriel the Bulldozer


"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""